Everyone, at some point in their lives, struggles with being different. Growing up in an immigrant home in Minnesota, I’ve always been an outsider. Thankfully by middle school, I learned to be very comfortable in that role. In most instances I’ve been able to find my merry band of misfits. We have a good time together.
However, as I age, I’m becoming even more of an iconoclast. If I received a nickel every time someone told me I was “unique”, I might be able to graduate from HBS debt-free! Misfits are harder and harder to find and it’s isolating. Last night I was having dinner with some colleagues. I made some seemingly uncontroversial statements (“I’m trying to radically decrease the number of things I own”, “motherhood has limited appeal to me”), and people looked at me as if horns had sprung from my forehead.
With a class of 900, I should be able to find some like-minded (or simply open-minded) people at HBS. But I’m getting a little nervous that I won’t.